


Anything, Anything

by unsettled



Category: RocknRolla
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-21
Updated: 2010-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Come on, Cookie, come on. Just a little, you can give me just a little now, you know I'm good for it-"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything, Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Started over at the kink meme, for the prompt: _[It's implied in the movie that Cookie was Johnny's dealer, right?  
>  Johnny's running a little low on cash and has to offer something else in exchange for his fix.](http://community.livejournal.com/rocknrolla_kink/596.html?thread=4436#t4436)_

"Come on, Cookie, come on. Just a little, you can give me just a little now, you know I'm good for it-"

Cookie silences Johnny with two fingers, pressing against his lips. "Johnny, Johnny," he says, shaking his head. "That's what you said last time. And, yeah, the time before that. Yet I still haven't got a cent from you."

Johnny looks at him, jittery and wide-eyed, seeing something other than this dingy room, strung out and _needing_. Cookie's seen it before, seen it so many times before, but he hasn't seen it from Johnny. Johnny's always had the cash, from somewhere, and Cookie's not about to question where. Has always been able to buy his fix before the cravings set in, before the desperation struck.

"Please, please, please," Johnny whispers, lips moving against Cookie's fingers. "Just a little, just, anything, I'll do anything you want, what do you want, please..."

"Johnny," he says again. "You know I'll usually give you anything. But this has got to stop, Johnny. I'm not getting anything if I just give all my goods away. I'm not doing this for the fun and games."

Johnny stars at him, so breakable, so broken already. Opens his mouth and breathes out against Cookie's fingers, then wraps his lips around them, tongue settling hot and wet against the pads of his fingers.

Cookie groans. "What do you think you're doing?"

Johnny releases his fingers, the air cooling them sharply, making him shiver. "Anything you want, Cookie," he says. "Anything, anything at all, anything-"

He doesn't want to listen to Johnny babble on like that, doesn't want to take advantage of him in such a state; but Johnny passed that point of ever getting out, and there's never going to be a time when he's less fucked up than now. He curls his fingers in Johnny's hair and shoves him down.

Johnny folds to his knees obligingly, presses his face into the fabric of Cookie's trousers, and Cookie could swear he can feel the heat of Johnny's mouth even through them. Johnny's hands come up to wrap around his thighs, and he works at the zipper, because Johnny's still whispering into the cloth, a broken litany of please and _anything_ and _needy_ , needy sounds.

Sounds that never stop, that only grow muffled as Johnny slides his lips down Cookie's cock, those whimpers and moans and tiny whines stoppered up in his throat, vibrating as he slid his mouth down even further. And fuck, yeah, yeah, maybe Johnny was a broken thing, and maybe he looked best as he is, these splintered bits of him, and maybe Cookie doesn't even care, because Johnny sucks cock like he's had too much practice.

That's good, that's fine, never mind that's there's nothing right about this, but what Cookie wants from Johnny right now, right now, is something closer to anything. He presses his palm to the side of Johnny's head, to that short, fine hair, prickling his fingers. Lets it fall to the back of Johnny's neck, where his fingers trace over the sharp bones of his spine, skinny enough to hurt, skinny enough to break.

He tightens his grip.

Johnny take the face fucking right up there with the best of them, with the whores Cookie's never had to buy. Better, maybe, because they weren't the sort to just take it without trying to turn it around, they wouldn't have just taken it like Johnny does, tears streaming down his face, those lovely sounds rising up from somewhere irrepressible, hands fisted tight and Cookie's sure that when he uncurls them, there'll be blood filled crescents.

He coughs and chokes when Cookie comes, hands coming up to push at Cookie, and yeah, there's blood on his palms, staining Cookie's trousers, but Cookie finds he doesn't mind, doesn't care, even as he pulls away, Johnny just barely stopping himself from falling forward; Johnny more than paid for a little something. Just a little something, though.

When he comes back to the room, Johnny's still where he left him, though he's tilted and fallen right over, a crumpled heap on the floor, twitching and bright eyed. Cookie kneels next to him. Presses his thumb to the swollen flesh of Johnny's bottom lip and drags it down as his other hand traces white powder onto Johnny's gums, trails it all over his mouth, fingers sliding over his tongue, wet and warm and still, the smell of cocaine and come like some newer, more potent drug, and even Cookie can't resist one kiss when Johnny's eyes roll back and he moans, whispers a broken, hollow plea.

 _"Anything."_


End file.
